Immortal
by Madame Rat
Summary: A storm is brewing. Chapter 13 up as of September 13. (oo..a sign?)
1. Diary Entry

FROM THE DIARY OF A NEW WOMAN  
  
It seems almost sacrilegious that I start writing again. A new computer, a new life? After ruling out therapists and psychoanalysts, I've come to the decision, and believe you me, it's been a very trying decision, that telling yourself it's okay is much more appealing to your sanity.  
  
For a self reminder, I'd like to recall that the only reason I do not bother typing my old journal entries from my crashed computer (Goddamn you Gates) even though I kept them on disks (Goddamn me) is that I am no longer that lost girl. I still remember them vividly. The moments that stung the most, the moments that made me stronger. I remember being kidnapped by a one armed brute that I was sure was the devil himself, I remember being shot by my traitorous ex, and of being expelled of my internship at the bureau. I remember being seduced into tests by a cigarette smoking man, of being impregnated with a hybrid child, and of losing it and my sanity. I remember the power. The power to move things. The power to scare. The power of loss.  
  
I remember it all, but the most vivid memories were those that happened after I ran away. Ran from my adoptive parents and the lies, from the danger and deceit. When I ran away from Yelena Krycek and Cassidy Adamson and became someone new.  
  
I remember.  
  
I remember falling in love. What it felt like to know you could lose more than your sanity and your heart and mind. What it felt like to know that you could lose you soul.  
  
My name is Cassidy. It is also Yelena. But I am much more things than just names.  
  
I can tell you what a happy life I live now. Or maybe that it's all a lie. I could, but I won't. I just want to remember.  
  
I want to remember the time where I woke up. The time where I died.  
  
The time where I resurrected.  
  
For now,  
  
C. K. 


	2. Another Day

The cat lay absolutely still on her back, eyes closed, front paws resting on her gray chest. The last rays of the sun slanted through the long vertical blinds and bathed her fur into a glow of gold. She was undisturbed by the sound of a key in the lock which broke the silence of the small apartment. She half opened her when she heard footsteps but began to stretch hesitantly as she heard her mistress's soft song.  
  
Her mistress always did have a pretty voice.  
  
One month shy of nineteen, Verity Saunders couldn't help but sing cheerfully. Her life had taken a brand new turn and she was now secure, healthy and prosperous.  
  
Verity set her keys down on the kitchen table and couldn't resist to stop and look at herself in the gilt-framed, rectangular mirror that hung in the hallway. It was one of the first pieces she had bought when she had moved into the apartment. The glass was old, and she had paid a somewhat ridiculous price for it considering the dark spots in the right hand corner. It had meant a great deal to Verity, however, to be able to hang it on the wall of her own apartment, of her own home. She realized she could have lived in a far more luxurious complex, perhaps even a condominium, but to Verity Saunders, status no longer mattered. Not where safety was concerned. With a small sigh, she took a good look at her reflection.  
  
She had left her hair down for the evening, and it flowed over her shoulders to swing past her elbows. With a restless move, she tossed it back. It lifted, then settled, raven-black, and thick. Almost gypsy like, she mused.  
  
Her face, like her frame was small and delicate, but her features weren't even. Her mouth was full and generous, her nose was small and straight, her chin was a subtle point. Though the bone structure in her face was elegant, her deep green eyes were huge and tempting. There also seemed to be a fire behind the luscious colour, that could only be surfaced by contacts. An exotic face, she had been told, yet she saw no beauty in it. With the right lighting and make-up, she was bewitching on stage, but just on stage, she thought, and lowered her eyes. The characters ballet created were just illusions. They weren't Verity Saunders. Even though, she thought and grimaced, Verity Saunders was an illusion as well.  
  
A well-thought out illusion sculpted from impulse and pressure, but an illusion nonetheless.  
  
She slid her peach parka off her shoulders to reveal her chic style and as equally avant garde figure. The young woman could reach 5'6, if she stood on her tip-toes. She was slim, which would have complimented her height if a past disease hadn't left her body savagely bony. A stereotypical dancer, she thought morbidly.  
  
And yet it had been the love of the dance that had kept her going. New York was filled with dead ends and dreams, but fortunate for Verity, that state had been generous enough to offer her the latter. Since twelve years old, she had fantasized about being a ballerina, those goals finalized into reveries of dancing Dulcinea, Giselle and Juliet. For five years, she had put tears and marrow into perfecting her form, her grace, her stage presence. Sometimes, she would forget her love of the dance as she was involved in other activities, but once she stepped onto the stage, she knew where her heart belong. Favorably enough, so did her dance instructors. Those who would push and pry and fight for Verity's spot in the dance corps of New York, and would finally prevail. She would prevail. Night after night, toes raw and bleeding, muscles aching and sore, she would still raise her head high. She had found security in dance. Security that she had missed for most of her life.  
  
Verity put a hand to her cheek and caught a tear that fell from her eye. Security wasn't everything, she knew. But at this stage in her life, alone or not, it was the most important thing.  
  
She finally brought herself out of her daydream when she heard the phone ring. Almost tripping over her feet, she ran to answer it. Hardly anyone called her these days.  
  
"Hello," the smile that came to her voice, surfacing due to happiness that someone had called, was evident.  
  
"Cassidy."  
  
Verity's body stiffened. Her fingers went numb that it was almost a wonder she caught the phone back when she fumbled it. Her cat raised her head in question.  
  
"Cassidy.." the female voice repeated. Verity chewed on her bottom lip, trying to prevent herself from sobbing. It was nerve the woman had to find her, but it was audacity she had to call Verity by that name.  
  
"I told you to never call me that again." the younger woman's voice was shaky, part from anger, part from anxiety. Why had she called her?  
  
"I.I know I have no right."  
  
"You don't. You don't have any right at all," hissed Verity, speaking before thinking. "Why did you bother? Why did you call? What reason could possibly make you want to give a damn about me, Agent Scully?"  
  
There was a pause. From where she sat at her desk in Washington, D.C., Agent Scully bit her bottom lip and tried not to show weakness herself.  
  
"Alex Krycek is dead." 


	3. Another Habit

Each of us like you  
  
has died once  
  
each of us like you  
  
has passed through drift of  
  
wood-leaves  
  
cracked and bent  
  
and tortured and unbent  
  
in the winter frost,  
  
then burnt into gold points,  
  
lighted afresh,  
  
crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf,  
  
gold turned and re-welded  
  
in the sun heat;  
  
each of us is like you  
  
has died once,  
  
each of us has crossed an old wood-path  
  
and found the winter leaves  
  
so golden in the sun fire  
  
that even the live wood-flowers  
  
were dark.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
-Excerpt from H. Doolittle  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 1:The Past  
  
Chapter 1  
  
May 2000  
  
I'm not sorry I stole this from you. Nor am I sorry I've read your previous entries since they've always managed to lead to some surfacing truth. I am sorry that you are not at my side right now as I celebrate this victory.  
  
It is the millennium and civilization is still at a dead end. The only true triumph at hand is the death of monstrosity and ascendancy. The cigarette smoking man is dead. I was the one who held the honour of murdering that self-indulgent son of a bitch.  
  
I did it for you. I did it for us.  
  
I wish you could have seen the absolute panic in his emotionless eyes. I can still remember it so vividly. He knew his fate had been sealed long ago, but he was dismayed and surprised that it was I whom he was bargaining his life for. A plea for humanity.  
  
Hah. To think, after all the lives he's ruined, he still views himself as the hierarchy of humanity.  
  
All the pain he's caused in his lifetime. So many had fallen prey to this.this fraud. I reveled  
  
in such revenge.  
  
I wish you had been there to seen it, but I knew you had more threatening issues at hand.  
  
June 2000  
  
Washington, D.C.  
  
Cassidy Adamson wished she was anywhere other than where she was right now.  
  
A storm was brewing. Or was about to.  
  
After inspecting her recently gnawed at nails, she began to survey Assistant Director's Skinner's office. Fortunately, the A.D.'s now stagnant position at the bureau hadn't affected his traditional mind, including his hand at interior decor.  
  
The framed pictures of Reno and Clinton still hung proud, falsifying the current events at the White House. Cassidy sighed. She never had been interested in politics.  
  
Turning her head, she caught the reflection glimpse of her former superior's name plate.  
  
Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner.  
  
Not intimidated the slightest at the grandeur of the title, not to mention of the name, Cassidy crossed her arms and ran through her stance on the matter at hand. She was more than indifferent to any offer the assistant director had to give her, even if it was working back for Agent Scully. When Sharon, Skinner's newest and greenest secretary, had called the previous week, Cassidy didn't even consider wanting to work for Scully any further. Dismissed by the bureau 3 months ago, she thought she would be able to lead a close to normal life.  
  
The door opened and the towering AD walked in.  
  
Walter Skinner wore his no-nonsense look wherever he was. In his late thirties and somewhat pre-maturely balding, Skinner had learned at a very young age to keep whatever emotion he felt hidden from general sight.  
  
He had folded to strict upbringing on his Navy Intelligence father's behalf, learning when to restraint control and when to step forward. At 6'2 with piercing dark eyes, he didn't bother sympathizing for those agents who fidgeted and squirmed when they caught him in plain view. He did, however, give credit to those who did not. Which is why he held a fondness in his heart for the soulful Agent Scully, not to mention the disliked Agent Mulder, who, perhaps, could have rightfully been the cause behind Skinner's lack of hair, since he seemed to be pulling it out in frustration every time Mulder came through the door.  
  
The assistant director prayed to whatever fates above that those days were not the last he'd see of Agent Mulder.  
  
"I apologize to keep you waiting. There was some confusion downstairs I had to sort out." He sat down behind his desk and locked eyes with the young girl. She was growing up to be a beautiful young woman, but there was something unnerving in her eyes. Skinner stiffened as he remembered the similarity in Alex's eyes as the bastard renegade had stared him down, with Skinner's life in his hand.  
  
"Please. Don't drag this out any longer than it has to be. At least give me that much. Let's just pretend that I'm not stupid for once and get straight to the point." Cassidy sat up straighter. She had no reason to be afraid of anyone anymore. The two most pernicious men seemed to have faded out of her life for good. Albeit Agent Mulder still pursued his cause, her mind reeled.  
  
Skinner's jaw tightened. Stubborn, as usual.  
  
"The point.is that we need you back." Skinner almost grimaced as he heard the not quite subtle pleading in his voice.  
  
"No," the girl didn't miss a beat.  
  
"You haven't let me finished.."  
  
"The answer is no."  
  
There was a painful silence. Cassidy stood up.  
  
"If there isn't anything useful you've planned to tell me, I'm going to go now and do something productive with my time. Good afternoon."  
  
Cassidy was two steps away from the doorway when Skinner spoke up.  
  
"Agent Mulder's gone."  
  
Cassidy's body betrayed her as it went numb. She shouldn't have cared, but for some reason she was unable to continue to walk out of the office. She turned around, nerves beginning to shake.  
  
"She needs you." He watched as the girl took her seat again and settled in. He hadn't meant to lure the girl like he was now, but it was his last hope. Mulder had to be found and he knew what Cassidy was capable of.  
  
"Mulder left."  
  
"No. Mulder was taken."  
  
"By whom?" Cassidy's eyes were wide and her voice shaky.  
  
"I think you know." Skinner leaned forward and scribbled something down. Cassidy tried to see what it was but a look from the AD told her to do otherwise. He got up and slowly edged around the room while Cassidy sat, watching in half amusement and half wonder if Skinner had finally lost all common sense.  
  
Opening a wooden cabinet, Skinner revealed a monitoring system and VCR. Pressing the buttons, Skinner grabbed the tape as it ejected and walked over to his office telephone, where he proceeded to take it off the hook.  
  
"Are you--" Cassidy asked but was cut off by the A.D.'s deadly look. Skinner moved around his desk and bent his knees until he was at the girl's height.  
  
"Kersh has signed on two new agents. He's over my head in authority so I can't always protect Agent Scully," he whispered.  
  
Assistant Director Kersh. The words alone could actuate an agent, intern or superior to hand in his resignation papers. Kersh was a ruthless son of a bitch, most agreed. Those who didn't were those with the last say, of course.  
  
".Wh..why does she need protection?" The girl asked in a somber tone.  
  
"It's not my right to tell you but you have to trust me on this one. Something big and possible dangerous is about to occur soon and I need someone to be my eyes and ears. Someone who they wouldn't suspect."  
  
"How can you be so sure I'm not suspicious?"  
  
"I dismissed you, Cassidy. Kersh was the one who brought you back."  
  
"He knows I'm here?"  
  
"He knows you will be, but he doesn't know of this meeting. He never can, do you understand Cassidy?"  
  
The girl was silent.  
  
"Do you understand Cassidy?!" Skinner's voice was more urgent.  
  
"And what do I get in return?" Cassidy stood up and the AD followed. He looked down and held out the tape.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I think it's in your best interests to know what's on it."  
  
Cassidy looked up. Questions began to swam through her mind and the morning's throbbing headache returned. Mulder had told her the tales of the Cigarette Smoking Man and Alex had even gone farther, telling her of his cryptic cold-blooded ways, but when she had seen him for the first time, she had been the one whose blood had run cold. Was he behind Mulder's disappearance? And why did Agent Scully need protection? Was she truly the one to give it to her?  
  
Confused and dry-mouthed, the girl finally spoke up.  
  
"I'll come back for it." She turned around and began to walk.  
  
"This never happened."  
  
The girl stood still for a moment and then walked out.  
  
  
  
"All I'm saying Agent Scully is that maybe it's wise to take a leave of absence sooner than you planned," Agent Doggett leaned against the desk waiting for a response from his seated partner. "Listen, I understand why you didn't tell me in the first place, but what I don't understand is why you're making it more difficult for yourself than it already is."  
  
" I can't shake the image of what those men did to Mary Hendershot. If I leave now, the odds are greater that they-"  
  
"Another question, Agent Scully, is to who 'they' are. Zeus Genetics? Walden-Freemen Army? I made a promise to you, and I keep my promises, but you still got to help me out on this one." Agent Doggett paused and waved a hand in front of Scully's face mockingly.  
  
"Agent?"  
  
Scully's eyes went wide at the figure in the doorway.  
  
She was almost a gypsy figurine, with wavy brown hair and fawn eyes. Tiny framed but trimmed with small muscle, she hadn't changed. The picture in the paper had favorably caught every curve of her body, every dimple of her face. Small time fame hadn't affected Cassidy Adamson, in appearance at least. She still looked like the same pretty doting intern Special Agent Dana Scully had mothered from first instinct, no matter what others said or thought.  
  
This time, however, Scully saw something more painful in the girl's eyes.  
  
"I didn't think I'd see you."  
  
"It'll be about a year." Cassidy stood, looking guarded.  
  
"Oh." Scully's smile faded but reappeared as the girl entered, laughing. Cassidy wrapped her arms around the agent in an embrace. If but not for a second, the girl put her head on Scully's chest and smiled. Mrs. Hofiat had always been kind, but, although she had never told anyone or admit it, Cassidy admired Scully and viewed her as the only true mother she'd ever known.  
  
"Careful!" Scully protested quietly.  
  
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" The girl took a step back while the female agent exchanged a look between Doggett.  
  
"No, no, I'm fine. Cass, this is-"  
  
"John Doggett," the man held out his hand and grinned as Cassidy shook it.  
  
"Cass Adamson." The girl took a careful look at his face and observed his very chiseled features. From his distinguishably jagged nose to the wrinkles in his forehead, to the dimples that surfaced from his grin, Agent Doggett, like his predecessor, looked like the All-American Boy grown up.  
  
Special Agent John Jay Doggett was very much handsome, but, like Skinner, his company almost seemed unnerving. Looking up at him, Cassidy read there was trouble in his eyes. Grief, terrible loss. Agent Doggett shifted as he realized she was trying to see through him. Cassidy's exterior manner transgressed her first impression, luckily enough for Doggett.  
  
Defenses down and friendly, his welcoming manner was completely opposite to Mulder's. Why am I comparing him to Mulder? she thought.  
  
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't know." Doggett admitted, smile still evident.  
  
Cassidy's hand dropped as her mind reeled of where he could have known her from. Had Kersh maneuvered another stunt?  
  
Sensing tension and reading the look on the girl's face, Doggett added, "Agent Scully's told me about you. I'm actually surprised Skinner would have assigned an internship to someone so young and to a division as small as the X-Files."  
  
"Well, you obviously don't know how this division truly works then."  
  
Doggett, somewhat put off by this remark, just chuckled. Scully shot a look at the girl, but it fell unnoticed.  
  
"I suppose not," he turned back to Scully, "I have to go bring up these folders to Kersh. Nice meeting you, Cass."  
  
Cassidy's eyebrows raised as he walked out of the room. Kersh. So he was one of Kersh's. It still didn't explain the awkwardness of their first meeting. If Doggett had been told beforehand about her, he was a damn good actor. The girl's face fluttered to a crimson colour. The fact also didn't explain why she had liked him so quickly. She silently scolded herself for coming off too overbearing.  
  
Calming down, she shot a look to Scully, who matched her contact.  
  
"Told him all about me, huh?" she took a seat, "Well.now that everyone's acquainted." She looked around the room and then back to the desk where something, or actually, a lack of something caught her eye.  
  
"His name plate's gone."  
  
"Jesus, Cass." was the only half-decent response the Agent could string out.  
  
"It was bound to come up sooner or later so why waste time, Dana? Where's Fox? Where is Mulder?"  
  
"That's what Agent Doggett and I would like to know. He was taken by them. AD Skinner saw the whole thing. It was after you walked out on us-"  
  
"I NEVER walked out on you, I was dismissed," Cass reduced her voice to a hiss. "You walked out on me!"  
  
" It was over my jurisdiction." A part of Scully felt guilty, knowing that it was most certainly not. She had been, at that point, torn between instinct and her growing relationship outside of the office with Agent Mulder.  
  
"So just what did Skinner see?"  
  
Scully held her breath before speaking.  
  
"A ship."  
  
"An alien ship..Mulder was abducted by..a goddamn ship.." the girl began to laugh, "And just where the hell do you expect to find him, huh?"  
  
"All I need is to find him soon. Whenever someone walks through that doorway, in one way or another, they are at a great risk," Scully motioned to the basement doorway. "It will never end until I find him."  
  
"And then what?"  
  
"Then..I.reveal to him some very important news." Scully put a hand on her stomach while Cassidy looked on in awe. 


	4. But Not Another Investigation

NOT JUST ANOTHER INVESTIGATION  
  
Doggett nodded his appreciation to the woman who held the door open for him and he took his cell phone from his jacket as he hurried along the J. Edgar Hoover steps. Squinting his eyes, he looked up at the sky and then began to dial a number.  
  
"Reyes," came the female answer.  
  
"It's Agent Doggett."  
  
"And from the office cell, no less. You know Agent Doggett, all work and no play could ruin a man, especially if it's on a Saturday afternoon."  
  
"Kersh called a meeting. It's a shame you missed it," Doggett smirked.  
  
"Touché."  
  
"Agent Reyes, you wouldn't happen to be near a computer at the moment now would you?"  
  
"I might. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I need a background check."  
  
"Uh-oh. Another blind date go horribly wrong, Agent Doggett?" Monica twirled the phone cord with her finger and swirled around in her chair. Agent Doggett's life had been turbulent at that, and she never missed an opportunity to cheer his often serious but kind demeanor up with her twisted sense of humour.  
  
"Not particularly. She's an intern here. Or at least was. Kersh gave me the low-down this morning."  
  
"Doesn't like the little lady's company?"  
  
"I suppose you could put it that way. Name is Cassidy Adamson." Doggett tapped his foot and waited for an answer.  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Sorry. That name sounds a little familiar, I was just trying to think where I've heard it before."  
  
"So tie business in with personal interest."  
  
"I'll try my best Agent Doggett."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Oh, and John?"  
  
"Agent?"  
  
".Go take a nap. You sound a little cranky." 


	5. A Beautiful Mind

Only a few miles away, a young man cursed under his breath while his right hand fumbled with his apartment's keys while the other was trying to keep grasp of bills, junk mail and perhaps a lottery notification with a picture of Mr. McMann telling him he's just won one million dollars.  
  
A couple inches shy of six feet and not exactly agile in nature, he managed to bumble his way through the doorway and stand in the sea of the single male syndrome: mess and pride. Stubborn enough to refuse hiring a cleaning lady at his mother's bequest, Benjamin Harris suddenly regretted throwing a stag party for his best friend the previous night. Still slightly hung over, the strewn pizza boxes, beer bottles and confetti only made his oncoming headache worsen. Kicking the mess aside, he lay the mail on the newly furnished and newly scratched wooden table and hobbled towards his bedroom, not meaning to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror but doing so nonetheless.  
  
If there was one insult that had stuck to him from the childhood playground beatings to manhood, it was the phrase "pretty boy". With deep summer blue eyes and somber chocolate hair with frosted blonde tips, he was the envy of his friends and the mistake of his ex-girlfriends. His build was rangy, hinted of tough in the muscles of the forearms showing under the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt. His face was the kicker however; Ben, no matter how hard he tried, was not one to pick fights with his angelic face and dimples.  
  
He groaned as he saw the flashing red light on his answering machine. He knew who at least one of the two callers would be.  
  
"Benny." cooed a raspy feminine voice, " Benny, I know you're screening. Just pick up. Please? You're not going to make me beg, are you Benny? Listen, Wednesday evening was just a big misunderstanding, we can work this out. Oh, don't be pigheaded, you know very well this has been quite the difficult time in my life. The vet's diagnosed Tiffy with depression and now it's gotten so bad she won't even play with her favourite chew toy. I've been loaded down with Geri's surprise party, I did tell you her mother asked me to coordinate, right? .Oh, don't be such a.such a boy! Call me! Benny..we are still together right? I mean, we have to keep up ap-"  
  
One hand at his temple and the other on the forward button, Benjamin couldn't help but wince everytime his ex-girlfriend teased him with his pet name. He released the button and sat back down.  
  
"Ben, you son of a bitch. You went to work. You're a braver man than the rest of us. Thanks for the party, it was..damnit, it was my last sense of freedom altogether."  
  
Benjamin couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"Anyways, Eric, Matt and I were thinking of one last night at Teddy's. You in? Drinks on me. You know the number, you cheap bastard."  
  
There was a click and the machine whirred to a halt.  
  
Ben was grateful for the moment of silence as he managed to walk to this bathroom cabinet and down an aspirin for his throbbing head.  
  
A month after his twenty-first birthday, he had packed up and moved away from his roots in South Carolina to be as far away from his former life as possible. He had managed to stay in touch with his family and the best of his friends, but still successfully balanced his social life here in Washington. His father had been part horticulturist, part business man as he, his wife and two children had lived a very comfortable life in Charleston. Alfred and Rena Harris were at the top of every guest list for VIP parties, social events and charitable causes. Unlike his female twin, Ben shied away from the spotlight that shone so magnificently on the Harris's back in that hometown. With her debutante style but modern wit, Christine had always acted as Ben's most loyal companion through childhood and his painful shyness. Expectedly, however, their paths changed around the adolescent years when Christine discovered boys and Ben discovered he had a voice of his own and acquired many other friends.  
  
But it still had been Christine who had stuck around and soothed Ben back to sleep whenever he had suffered from another nightmare, which happened frequently and often, painfully. It had been their little secret since it only seemed to happen when it was just the two of them, alone. The earliest memory Ben had of it was when he was only five years old and to this day it could remember it vividly. How the August wind had cooled the air, blowing dark clouds across the already ash brimmed sky. How the air smelled like rain, as it always seemed to do no matter where you went in South Carolina. Somehow, the air seemed even more damp that afternoon, as if it was a mist of sorrow or mourning, a heavy fog of sadness.  
  
Rena Harris had put down both her children for their daily nap and had stepped out of the room to have a cigarette. Closing the old nursery door, she left Christine and Benjamin in darkness. While the young girl dreamed of fairy princesses and horses, Ben's dreams, like the room, began to fade into the black. He tried to focus back to his adventurous reveries but failed, as the images blurred together until he could make out vague shapes.  
  
He saw rain. He felt rain. It was as if the line of reality and dreamlike apparition had blended together as Ben shivered in his sleep at the chill in the air. He could see where he was, a side road from his nursery school. Ever the vacant street with the thanks of modern day vehicles. Charleston, afterall, was an old town, though rich in culture and appearance. Along the roadside the trees appeared more yellow than green, and touches of bright flame and scarlet were beginning to surface. Nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw her.  
  
As her silvery blond hair whipped in the wind, the slender woman scolded herself for not pinning her tresses at the nape of her neck. She was new to Charleston and if her car hadn't broken down 2 miles ago, she would have most likely been at Ashley's house by now. She wrapped her arms around her and continued walking. Suddenly, as if the great fates had pulled the plug, the wind eased down to absolute stillness. The woman suddenly wished it hadn't as she had always feared complete silence. Complete loneliness.  
  
As she approached a thrush, she sighed. It would've been easier if Ashley had visited her in Progress, but no, her best friend of eleven years never eased up on her bullheadedness.  
  
The woman suddenly heard a crack of a branch and made a sharp turn. She saw no one behind her and turned back, quickly taking in a deep breath.  
  
"Are you lost, Miss?"  
  
His eyes were charcoal black, complimenting his hair. He wore faded denim and plaid, the markings of a farmer. His face wore a look of pretense but the woman decided to look beyond that as of now, it was not what she needed.  
  
"My car broke down 2 miles ago. My cell doesn't seem to be working at this proximity. Would you happen to know how to get to the Evans' mansion from here?"  
  
There was a pause and the woman knew he wasn't listening to her. He was tall, perhaps a foot taller than herself, and there seemed to be something wicked in his face.  
  
"I think I can help you." He leered. She began to feel frightened.  
  
"Actually, I think I'll make my way back now. But thank you anyways." As she began to walk away, she could hear his footsteps follow. When she stopped, they stopped. When she began to speed up, so did they. She soon found herself panting, out of breath but still running from someone that could only described as threatening.  
  
Heart in throat, pulse pounding, she couldn't keep up speed and shrieked as he grabbed her about the waist and dragged her back into the thrush.  
  
It was a vacant road, but only Benjamin heard.  
  
Benjamin woke up crying, drenched in sweat and tears, calling out for his mother, who had made her way downstairs. Christine opened her eyes and hopped off her bed, concerned for the well-being of her brother. When born, Christine had been the older twin by 27 seconds but always acted as protector of her twin as sometimes their mother, still adrift in her own world, would seem less than competent.  
  
Making her way over to Ben, Christine had wrapped her arms around him and tried to lull him back into his calmed, sleeping state.  
  
"Something bad .I saw..something bad."  
  
It would be two days later that the local police discovered Gina Fowland's raped and strangled body in the thrush, her intended visit to friend Ashley Evan's place haven taken a turn in a monstrous direction.  
  
In present day, Ben's muscles tensed and he shivered as beads of sweat began to form on his brows. Raising his head slightly, he glared at the image he saw in the mirror, chastising himself for one of the two occurrences he hadn't been able to control.  
  
He shook the feeling of regret and stood up straight. The past was the past. He had a wedding to attend. 


	6. A Life in it's Own

"No."  
  
Assistant Director looked up from his mounds of paperwork to look into the flaming eyes of a royally pissed Cassidy Adamson.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Cassidy looked behind her and slammed the office door in the secretary's face, apologizing for letting the girl through. She made her way to where Skinner was standing and crossed her arms, fingers brushing her elbows.  
  
"I said no. I don't want to get involved."  
  
"It's too late to consider apprehension," Skinner went back to writing.  
  
"To hell with apprehension," the girl hissed, "this is common sense. Agent Scully is pregnant. You didn't let me in on that."  
  
"She swore to me to secrecy." Skinner put his pen down and brushed the papers away. "Look, it's not a smart decision to talk about this now."  
  
"Then WHEN? Who have you got spying on us, Skinner? Who's breathing down your neck, who's twisted your arm? Damnit, I KNOW you've sent Doggett on a suicide mission and now you're benevolent enough to let me tag around Captain America but I will not let you drag Scully down with us!"  
  
Skinner looked at the angered girl almost in awe. She had shown such compassion for Agent Scully, even when the woman had been skeptically about the intern for the division, saying there was another reason for Skinner's choosing of the girl. Through the time they worked together, they became close, as Scully played a maternal role to Cassidy's free-spirited daughter guise. Skinner knew Scully had longed for a child of her own but when Mulder had informed him about the aftermath of her abduction, Skinner sympathized. He could clearly see, however, Cassidy was unaware of this information. Unaware that the child could be something other than human.  
  
He sighed ruefully and opened a desk drawer, revealing the tape he had offered her before. Standing up he opened his cabinet up to reveal a VCR and monitor. Placing the tape into the machine, he took a step back. He put his hands back into his pockets and turned to face Cassidy, who took a seat.  
  
"You've got courage, Cass. But it's going to take a hell of a lot more than that to win this war."  
  
"What war?"  
  
If only she knew, he mused.  
  
"I recommend you watch the tape." Skinner looked around as if checking for something and then stepped out of the room.  
  
Cassidy brushed a stand of hair away from her face as she watched the monitor flicker from blue to gray. Crossing her arms and legs, she pursed her lips together, ready to scowl throughout the whole presentation..whatever it was.  
  
The monitor flickered back as it showed the bureau's parking lot. Big fucking deal, Cassidy thought, they must think I'm the world's biggest loser.  
  
Cars moved in and out progressively as the tape reeled. A cadillac here, a buick there, still no sign of anything that would catch her interest whatsoever.  
  
And then, something did.  
  
A black ferrari.  
  
It wasn't the car that triggered something in her memory. It was someone.  
  
It was Derek's car.  
  
Derek Smith always vouched for the fast and the showy. Not necessarily quality, but the ostentatious. With oozing personality and enough good looks to land him a three picture deal, the blonde had dated the girl when he was a senior in high school. Then again, now that she thought about it for a moment, he always looked older that he was. He always looked too good to be true.  
  
There was another side of Derek. The cold, calculating, manipulative bastard that he was, but those qualities only seeped in a few times as far as Cassidy could remember. Wanting more than she was ready to give him, almost showing a passive-aggressive streak every now and then. Nothing too deadly. Until she had found out it was all one plan. A plan that had been seeded by the Cigarette Smoking Man and carried out by a new generation of cronies, including Derek Smith. He had held the smoking gun as she had lay dying on the warehouse floor, with Alex Krycek contemplating his acquaintances, with Alex Krycek contemplating both of their future.  
  
But that had been a long time ago.  
  
And both of the bastards were dead.  
  
Hardly.  
  
It was a rude awakening to see those smoldering chocolate eyes, alive and ready for response, peering carefully around the perimeter. A shiver ran down her spine as she swore to herself that he had just smirked to the camera as he got out of his car.  
  
In a suit, he was impeccably dressed; he had always a good sense of style, albeit a dangerous one. The smirk seemed deceiving as his face became very tense, very purposeful. And those eyes, those disarmingly seductive eyes that seemed to have traces of grey and blue in them, strangely enough. The colour of them had always reminded her of rocks hacked out of a high cliff one moment, and of the soft, calm waters of a lake the next. Unpredictable and unassuming.  
  
The tall figure leaned against his car and whipped out a pair of sunglasses, even though there was no daylight. Typical, she tried to laugh, but she found her throat had all but closed up. She was having a difficult enough time breathing before the second figure approached.  
  
"No...Please God, No.." she managed shakily. Her fingers trembled as she pushed herself out of the chair and began to inch closer.  
  
There, speaking with Derek, was Alex Krycek.  
  
She felt the ground move from her feet as she crumpled to the floor. Her face paled and her eyes misted as she shook her head slightly in disbelief.  
  
There were too many words to describe what Alex Krycek was, but now, as Cassidy's empty eyes watched her own hand reach out and pause the tape, only one phrase sprang to mind.  
  
The devil.  
  
She clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming when Skinner came back into the room. He closed the door and ran over to the hysterical girl.  
  
"I can't...I can't fight both of them..not now..," she sobbed, any thought of dignity or pride flying out of the office window. Cassidy Adamson hated to weep in front of people, but this was the straw that broke her back.  
  
Skinner bent down to see her eye to eye, taken aback at her reaction, but knowing it would've had to come to this, sooner better than later.  
  
"You're not going to have to," he placed a hand on her shoulder but she pulled back, almost in fear.  
  
"How did you know about this tape? Who else knows?! Who else knows that they're alive?!" No longer did Cassidy care if anyone else could hear her as well. There seemed to be a tremendous ripping in her chest, a feeling of being cut in half. She wanted to scream more but her voice had collapsed and her lips just twitched, moving but not speaking. Skinner pulled his hand away again as the girl's body convulsed under his touch.  
  
"You.," she hissed, "How could you?"  
  
"There's so much you don't unde-"  
  
"How could I when I'm wanted for dead!? How long have you known?! How long has he been alive?! When..I can't..I can't ever trust you..Why did you want me to see this? As a little motivational pick-me up so I'd come crawling back?!"  
  
"Cass.."came the soft interjection.  
  
"No, shut up. Just shut up. How dare you? I can't. I refuse too. Tell them they've won. Tell them it's over. It's over!" On shaky legs, Cassidy made an effort to stand and walk.  
  
"It'll never be over," Skinner mumbled, "until this very bureau finds you dead."  
  
The shiver returned down her spine and her muscles contracted. She knew it. Both of them did, but that give him no right to say it. She turned around, tears almost whirling down from her eyes, the beginning trickles of an eternal waterfall.  
  
"What do you expect me to do? What do they want?"  
  
Skinner held his breath and put his hands in his pockets as he regained his towering posture.  
  
"We assume they're collaborating with others, we're just not quite sure yet. Individually, however, they seem to view Scully's baby as a threat. Alex Krycek.doesn't want Scully's baby to come to term."  
  
Cassidy closed her eyes.  
  
"They believe that Agent Scully is carrying a super soldier; an alien hybrid. It would be the first of its kind on the re-population of the planet."  
  
"They don't know that.."  
  
"Yes, but we don't know it isn't."  
  
Cassidy looked beyond the glass of the office. So many young girls out there would be enjoying their freedom. Driving to the shopping mall to meet their friends, watching their boyfriend's sports game, even sleeping in for God's sake. Not her, though. It was never her. And when it was her, it was for all of the wrong reasons.  
  
"How can I help you..her?"  
  
"They fear you."  
  
Cassidy's head snapped back and looked at Skinner.  
  
"Say that again."  
  
Skinner turned around and walked towards the same window she had glanced out. This hadn't been the way he'd pictured the climax of his career.  
  
"They fear you."  
  
Cassidy took in every word. It was a sense of power, but with power came consequence and danger. She had the upper hand, but she had come to her sense a while ago that no longer could she fight wars; there were too many things too live for. Like family.  
  
Like friends. Like obligation.  
  
The shiver returned to her spine. One lying, cheating bastard was enough. Two were life-threatening. No kidding.  
  
Her body had gradually returned from its numbness.  
  
"I'll see you Monday."  
  
The assistant director tried to sigh with comfort too quickly, tried to hide the smile in his voice when he spoke.  
  
"I won't see you later on?"  
  
"No. I have a wedding rehearsal to organize." Cassidy paused and looked back out the window, the end of her mouth nearly twitching.  
  
"I can't hide forever." 


	7. Part Two: A proposal, an impression and ...

PART TWO  
  
"No, parking would be at the end of the street…friend of the groom or bride? Right this way….right, left, right….Look at how cute Sissy looks…isn- --Sissy! Sissy! Those flowers aren't cheap! You just keep marching on! …Oh my god! It's the apocalypse! Run, hide everyone! The day of reckoning has fallen upon us! We're all doomed to—"  
  
The door to her bedroom opened as Jenna Hofiat, svelte as ever, leaned against Cassidy's door post. At 6'1, Jenna was a long-legged blonde who was stuck in her pre-teen days. The true Hofiat daughter had fawn-like beauty: fragile blond hair, ivory skin, and Viking blue eyes with brows thin and naturally arched. A complete contrast to Cassidy's gypsy-like comeliness, she still loved and felt protective of the growing girl. When her parents had adopted Cassidy, Jenna had been only fourteen, four years older than Cass. But now, Jenna was taking a large step and feared she was getting cold feet. And not about her marriage.  
  
"Don't pull a 'Grosse Point Blank' with me, Cats," Jenna smiled nervously.  
  
"Are you referring to me making smart ass comments in front of my dresser mirror while I fix the ribbon in my hair?" Cass asked in mock stupefaction.  
  
Jenna smiled weakly. She shoved the young girl's hand away and helped tie the ribbon.  
  
"Guests should be here by now."  
  
"They'll come." Cass looked herself up and down. She had chosen to wear a deep red cocktail dress for that night's rehearsal. The red ribbon had been Jenna's fiance's idea; Andrew, unlike some, had always wanted a little sister.  
  
"There." Jenna let her hands down and rubbed them against the sides of her own forest green cocktail dress.  
  
"So glad you didn't choose seafoam." Cassidy grinned but stopped as she saw Jenna's look. "..Jen? What is it?"  
  
Jenna turned around and sat on Cass's bed.  
  
"You'd even look beautiful in seafoam, Cats."  
  
"Jen, what is it?" Cassidy walked to her side and bent down. Jenna put her hand on Cassidy's cheek.  
  
"It's just…some things don't always appear as the seem to…"  
  
There was a lull. The sound of a doorbell broke the silence.  
  
"You should go get that..," whispered Jenna.  
  
Cassidy got to her feet, almost in a trance. She nodded and left, leaving Jenna Hofiat to contemplate her thoughts.  
  
  
  
  
  
The backyard had been set up for the rehearsal, as the Hofiats decided a nice warm evening wedding would be traditional at best. Few guests came for the rehearsal, as also seemed to be tradition, Mr. Hofiat cracked to his wife. Cassidy helped manage the door and usher the people to their seats. She though she'd get sick of the phrase "Bride or groom?"  
  
Peering out the backyard door, she heard the sound of the doorbell. Several times. Flicking her hair, she ran to the door. I'm coming you impatient bugger, she frowned and opened the door.  
  
Benjamin Harris turned a deep shade of crimson.  
  
"So you heard?"  
  
"I think China heard."  
  
"Sorry." Ben grinned and took a step inside as she opened the door further. "I thought it was broken."  
  
"I'm sure…Bride or groom?" Cass began a fast pace to the backyard gazebo with Ben following her.  
  
"Groom. Friend of Andrew's. Wow, pretty striking." He nodded to himself as he looked around. Crystal lights were hung from the wooden fence and a tent was in the process of being set up. There was a pond behind the gazebo that had been encircled with frills and lace. Several aisles of chairs were emptied.  
  
"Ah, at least one of his friend's will be supporting him at this." Cassidy motioned to seat at the end of the second aisle.  
  
"Yeah, I was tempted to bring my 'Honk if you like Andrew' sign but decided against it." He took a seat and nodded, more humilated by Cassidy's stare. He eased up as soon as she giggled.  
  
"Slow reaction?"  
  
"No, just slow first impression." She waved and walked off. 


	8. You deserve to be loved

"Would you like to dance?"  
  
Cassidy's head shot up, disturbing her thoughts. The wedding had been a success. Both Andrew and Jen had been teary-eyed. Weddings were pure, unadulterated sap. There hadn't been a dry eye in the backyard. But Cass's tears were for another reason.  
  
The cake had just been cut and Andrew and Jenna had been separated to be complimented by each group of friends. Though accolades of a flawless ceremony would make any bride and groom blush, the two hardly heard their friends. Each had a longing for another in their eyes. Cassidy had been hypnotized by that look. It seemed so unfamiliar.  
  
Her gaze turned to Benjamin, standing in front of her confidently.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"I asked you if you wanted to dance."  
  
Cassidy looked away from the blue eyes she saw herself staring at and towards the ground, shaking her head.  
  
"No….no thank you."  
  
Hands in pocket, Benjamin nodded.  
  
"Okay." He paused and decided to change his approach.  
  
"Would you like to move senselessly in accordance to the rhythm of the music being presented at this formal occasion?"  
  
Cassidy couldn't help but smile.  
  
"I think you just put Webster's to shame." She stood up and took his offering hand. The two walked to the centre of the dance floor and began.  
  
"Strange. Andrew never talked about you."  
  
"Well, you know how it goes. If you don't have anything nice to say…" Benjamin relaxed as the girl laughed. "Benjamin Harris. I'd, uh, shake your hand, but I don't want to remove their position at the moment." He grinned and nodded towards his hands placement on the girl's waist.  
  
"So let me do the honours." Cassidy took a step back from the dancing and shook the young man's hand. "Cassidy Adamson. Nice to meet you." She hesitated before resuming dancing with Benjamin.  
  
"Cancer…" Ben said somberly.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're a Cancer." Ben's tone had changed to that of a gentler one. "My mother was a Cancer."  
  
"…Oh…I'm….sorry…"  
  
Ben let out a small laugh. "Don't be. She's still alive."  
  
"Oh….but…how did you know?"  
  
Ben shrugged off the question and looked around at the guests gossiping, fretting, awing, eating. He looked down at his companion.  
  
"Lactose intolerant?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not big on the cake?" Ben nodded to her seat at the table. Her piece of cake had been played with but hardly touched.  
  
"Well, 1 out of 2 isn't bad, Sherlock. No…I…" Ben took a deep breath as he felt the girl's body stiffen. Cassidy looked to the ground. Why did this conversation feel so familiar? With anyone else, it would have been awkward and insulting, but this? The girl knew her limits, however. She wasn't about to expose past demons and disorders that seemed to be catching up with her. Especially today. Change of topic.  
  
"So, how do you know Andrew?"  
  
"We met at the same strip club." He laughed as the girl pulled away. "I'm joking. Work. We work at the same strip club."  
  
Cassidy laughed.  
  
"And everyone seems to think that's a joke." Ben chuckled and suddenly stopped dancing. A wave of nausea fell over him and he put his hands over his eyes.  
  
"Benjamin? Are you alright?" Cassidy put her hand onto his shoulder but snatched it back as she suddenly felt a spark. Ben felt it too.  
  
"Yeah…um…I think…I think I'm going to sit down…or at least…"  
  
He saw it. He saw her. He saw the demons. And they were overwhelming.  
  
The whole wedding had disappeared into darkness and cold. No voices could be heard. Except hers. The voice of her past, present and future.  
  
The curse was coming back to him.  
  
What he saw was a personal holocaust.  
  
A little girl being contract to another. A child being tested with syringes and experimented until death seemed like the best option. A troubled pre- teen who wouldn't eat. A teenager who was killing herself over appearance.  
  
A young woman being tortured to death.  
  
When Benjamin came to, he was in a cold sweat. He looked around his surroundings. He was in a bedroom. A girl's bedroom, given the Ben Affleck and Matchbox 20 posters on the wall. A laptop on a desk. A cat's basket to the side.  
  
Could it be—  
  
The door opened and Cassidy stepped in carrying a glass of water and an Asprin. She gave weak smile and sat down at the side of the bed, turning the Tweety Bird lamp on.  
  
"Hey," she said, offering the glass and the medicine. "How are you holding up?"  
  
Benjamin couldn't respond. He couldn't even look at her. In just seconds, he had read her. He knew her past, and what would happen. A shiver of fear crossed his spine. He had invaded her privacy and for that alone, he was a monster. Ben shook his head, only taking to water and pill, not verbally responding.  
  
"Andrew says you should stay the night."  
  
Benjamin peered over to look at the time. 2:48 AM. He had been passed out for five hours.  
  
"Well, not here, because, well, this is my room, so…" Cassidy gave a small smile. She looked at Benjamin, who's stare seemed like that of pity, of sorrow and of mourning. Her back went up.  
  
"Or…you…" She shook her head. "Maybe, you should just stay here."  
  
She stood up and walked to the door.  
  
"Cassidy!" Benjamin burst out.  
  
The girl turned, somewhat alarmed.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
He shook his head. He looked up to see that she had almost made her way out of the room.  
  
"I just wanted to hear myself…say your name…." He lay his head down, not wondering if she had heard his statement.  
  
Cassidy stood in the hall's darkness for a moment and closed the door.  
  
She had. 


	9. No Chance(s) in Hell

He knew her smell. Her taste.  
  
The way she would shiver under his touch. The way she would struggle.  
  
And one day, the day she would give in.  
  
Derek Smith had to take a real long drink as opposed to his favoured, fantasy-bred long drink. That being her, of course.  
  
The man slouched back into his chair. The room, almost closing in on him. Suffocating him. Like her. The bitch.  
  
He shuddered and undid his tie, relieving the some of pressure. Beads of sweat began to gather on his forehead as he watched the stacked television monitors, all focusing on one room. He slid off the chair, kneeling on both knees, crawling towards the screen closest to him. His two fingers caressing the female figure as she began to undress and shower. He could have any woman in the world, and yet..  
  
A possessive growl erupted from his throat and he shoved the television to the floor. Sparks flew but eventually died out, almost due to the man's icy stare. Derek balled his hands up into fists and began to pace the room. The door knocked.  
  
"WHAT?!" Derek screamed. The door opened and Alex stepped in.  
  
"Had a bit of an accident, I see." Krycek walked across the room, dragged her real hand against the desk top and took a seat. The younger man was unresponsive, but Alex continued.  
  
"The Hofiat girl almost let it slide."  
  
"Then dispose of her!" Derek shivered and took a seat across from Alex.  
  
"I'd rather not."  
  
"Well, it's not up to you, is it?" Derek shook your head. "You forget, Alex, who that smoking bastard left this business to…"  
  
"I'd rather not due to your former request about keeping a low profile."  
  
Derek was antsy. He jumped out of his seat and stormed back to the remaining monitors.  
  
" A fucking low profile? Skinner gave her the tape."  
  
"I know—"  
  
"Don't TELL me you know! That's the least of your fucking worries right now, Krycek! He FOUND her. Do you know what a problem this is?" Derek grabbed his glass and drank.  
  
"I can't kill him. Not yet." The Russian remained calm, even when the younger man threw the glass down, shattering it.  
  
"Not yet? Not yet?! We had a deal, Alex. We had a god damn deal! I'd take care of Mulder if you'd 'take care' of Lena!"  
  
"She doesn't know what she is, yet. Neither one of them does. Only you and I know." Alex's voice was becoming strained. A part of him wanted to jump over the desk and slit the arrogant prick's throat right there.  
  
"Well…don't you sound confident…" Derek sat in front of the lowest television set, his mouth drying at the sight of her. The camera had moved along the shower. The water running down her skin, her fingers running through her hair.  
  
"I don't get it. I don't fucking get it. She could have had anything with me." Derek gave a sudden, crazed laugh. "Well, I guess, that's what you get when you shoot your lover, huh?"  
  
Krycek's blood pressure began to rise. He knew for a fact that his sister and the scum sucking bastard had never been intimate, but the way Derek used the word spoiled it in all senses.  
  
"Only two of us are prophesied to survive. I don't see why you care about her."  
  
"I don't. And you don't either. And that's why this deal was supposed to work out." Derek stood up. "She's in my head. And she's in yours too. I just wanted to—"  
  
"Humiliate her." Krycek's jaw rigidified.  
  
"I just wanted to show her what she could've had. And then, we won't have to worry about her anymore. She'll cave in by herself. It happened the same way in the other lives…"  
  
"Then how come we're still stuck in this purgatory? Why are we living these damn nightmares again, huh? Tell me that…" Alex stood up, towering over Derek. "Your precious scientists and colleagues can study and fret and research all they want, but the fact is, the only one who knows why we are still living in this hell is the one that we plan to destroy. Tell me how that works again."  
  
There was a pause. Derek shook his head, smirking and Alex turned to walk out.  
  
"They can't ever be together. Kill him now so we won't have to worry about her later." Derek heard Krycek's footsteps out of the room. The man sighed as he watched her step out of the shower.  
  
"He can't save you in this life, sweetheart. You can't even save yourself." 


	10. Book Smart, Street Stupid

Disclaimer: Geez! I better start putting these in or my ass is proverbial grass! So here's to the man with the plan (Chris Carter) and his deliciously tormented round of characters, 'sides Cassidy Adamson, Derek, Benny and the Hofiat family which are just the result of a bad candy trip. "Book Smart, Street Stupid" is copyright of artist Sarah Slean from her latest "Night Bugs" album. Happy Easter!  
  
~i was born by an old streetlight  
  
where the men lean out of their windows at night  
  
and i was a lead in the orphan choir  
  
and i sang with all my might  
  
until a i grew up too high~  
  
A bureau sabbatical and Cassidy still found herself knee deep in paper- work, not that an intern was expected to do much else. She was still waiting for Scully to ditch Mr. America at an A.D. meeting upstairs and couldn't help but to raise the stereo volume. It was a distraction. A damn good distraction when you're filing through incidents of cow mutilation and metal trackers, not to be confused with shrapnel, found behind every other Bostonian's ear.  
  
Not that I belie---…  
  
Cassidy caught herself before she could have finished her thought. Her eyes wandered over Fox Mulder's "I Want To Believe" poster. She was still in Mulder's office although Mulder was no longer.  
  
No longer there, she thought. Not no longer. A shiver ran through her. Cassidy peered out of the office door and couldn't help to dial the number.  
  
~then oh, all the notes I used to play  
  
on the double bass in the B-list ballet  
  
with only the night bugs to lead me home  
  
with their sad luck serenade~  
  
2 rings. 3 rings. 4 rings. The answering machine would turn on. He wouldn't be there anymo—  
  
"..H…Hello?" Came the nervous voice.  
  
"Mr. Harris?" She was grinning, he could tell.  
  
"No, sorry, my father doesn't live here. I could get the operator the re- direct you if you'd like."  
  
"You've got chutzpah answering other people's phones."  
  
"Sorry?? Oh. Sorry."  
  
"I didn't say I was mad."  
  
ithe rain was never ending  
  
the sadness in my heart  
  
would light  
  
and glow in the dark/i  
  
"I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of a kind offer. No one seemed to be home."  
  
"No one is home and no one will be home for a while."  
  
"I'm on my way back."  
  
"Good……. Well, …..not …in that….um...—"  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"I was trying to get my foot out of my mouth."  
  
"Oh…"  
  
"You're laughing at me."  
  
"No, I'm….."  
  
"Hah. The sitch is reversed."  
  
"Touche."  
  
~this will never change  
  
time wear a prettier face  
  
i'm book smart  
  
street stupid~  
  
"Did you know that Federal Bureau of Investigation doesn't show up on your caller ID?……….Are you laughing at me?"  
  
"….Would it make a difference?"  
  
"No, actually. Just trying to preserve what little dignity I have after last night."  
  
"I've done worse."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I've passed out in a grocery store. ………. Hello?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I thought you just said you passed out in a grocery store."  
  
"I did. Right between the Tide Ultra and the Tide Deluxe."  
  
"That's incredible."  
  
"Really? Well, passing out a wedding's got to be on the Top 5 too."  
  
"No, I mean the fact that there's a difference between a Tide Ultra and a Tide Deluxe." A laugh.  
  
"I think the was my last conscious thought before I blacked out." He joined in.  
  
~the rain, still never ending  
  
the wonder in my heart  
  
still lights and glows in  
  
it still lights and glows in  
  
the dark~  
  
"I should probably let you go. I just wanted to see how if you were feeling better."  
  
"I am. Thanks."  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Harris."  
  
"Goodbye, Mrs. Hofiat."  
  
Cassidy put the phone down only to have her heart skip a beat when she saw Agent John Doggett staring at her.  
  
"Jesus…"  
  
Agent Doggett grinned. "Emergency?" When she didn't answer, he began to approach her, almost amused.  
  
"Are you angry with me, Cassidy?"  
  
"Of course not, I don't know you. " She tried to smile and look busy. The agent just grinned.  
  
"Right." He turned to head for the door. "Agent Scully should be here soon."  
  
Cassidy sat down in Doggett's, and formerly Mulder's, chair when the agent left, breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
"Not soon enough." 


	11. Happiness

DISCLAIMER: I am not Chris Carter. Chris Carter is not I. Hey Krycek, nice dead man's float..Krycek? 1013 owns 'em. I don't. I wish I did, I wish I might, but Carter's lawyers would surely fight! Love to TelliMouse for putting a literal gun to my head and making me write.  
  
Hofiat Residence  
  
Ben covered his yawn with his hand. Carrying his jacket, he exited Cassidy's bedroom and headed towards the Hofiat's well-furnished hallway. He put his hand against the wooden banister and peeked out into the backyard. The wedding's oriental lamps still hung in place, as did the lace streamers that stuck to the backyard verandah. The white chiffon encased tent that had been set up for the reception still stood strong, although empty with the exception of a few huddled masses of folded chairs.  
  
His friend would be happy. For the rest of his life.  
  
Ben took a step back and looked into the bedroom once more. He felt suddenly felt a bit embarrassed for invading the girl's privacy. Where had she slept that night? Ben caught himself blushing a bit in the hallway mirror that hung over a small side-table. He hesitated.  
  
"What the hell."  
  
He took out his cell phone.  
  
FBI Building Agent Mulder's Office 2:oo p.m.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
Dana Scully tried to push her way through the sea of FBI personnel in order to rush out of the elevator. The petite red-head had a look of determination on her face so evident that A.D. Skinner had to warn her about not giving anything away. This could be her chance.  
  
As she rounded the corner, she could sense the tension between the girl and her current partner. She shook her head listlessly.  
  
"We may have found him."  
  
Agent Scully took a deep breath as she tried to read Doggett's eyes. Now there was an agent who was proficient in giving nothing away.  
  
"Agent Mulder." Doggett acknowledged as he took his hands out of his pockets.  
  
"Yes." Agent Scully approached the desk and fanned out several database sheets, all from one folder.  
  
"A man by the name of Brian McMurdeo. Location, Tritown, New Jersey." She paused. "He claims to have seen Mulder."  
  
Agent Doggett exchanged a look with Cassidy.  
  
"In New Jersey?"  
  
The redhead paused. "In his dreams."  
  
"You're saying he envisioned Mulder?" Cassidy almost made a face at Doggett's New York drawl.  
  
"I'm saying that Mr. McMurdeo claims to be a seer. He says he can predict what is to come and that he envisioned.was, in fact, the abduction of those twenty-something people in the woods of Bellfleur, Oregon. He saw their faces. He saw Mulder.and he apparently affirms that Mulder came to him in a vision the other night. A vision that led to the FBI offices. To thisFBI office, in fact. And requested one Agent Dana Scully." Scully could feel her hands shake. She folded her arms across her chest.  
  
"Agent Doggett, you're looking at me like I would've looked at Mulder about five years ago."  
  
"But understandably, Agent Scully. You can't possibly think the man is legit."  
  
"I'm not jumping to any conclusions, we have Background running a cross- check on him to see is he is legit."  
  
Cassidy had been sitting there, quietly. She raised her head.  
  
"What if nothing comes up? He's for real?"  
  
Scully nodded. "We should have an address in two seconds."  
  
The phone rang.  
  
"Make that zero." Doggett picked up the phone. "Right. 283 Highwoods Avenue. Uh-huh. Right. Thank you." The agent hung up.  
  
"They've got no police records on him. He's clean."  
  
"His address?"  
  
"Right. They're getting the plane tickets now. We should be off soon." He saw the gleam of hope in Scully's eye and for a moment, envied Mulder.  
  
"Are you going to be all right, Cassidy? It should only be an overnight." Scully hands stopped shaking as she looked at the girl.  
  
"Hey, I'm of the goodness proportion. Have fun poking at Nostradamus. But I'm guessing I have my meal ticket out of here for the night?"  
  
The redhead nodded. Cassidy smiled, grabbed her bag and went out the door. Doggett suddenly remembered his request from Reyes.  
  
"Shit." The agent muttered, fumbling for his phone. "I'll be back in a moment, Dana." John Doggett began to walk out the door when he barely avoided collision with Monica Reyes.  
  
"I was just about to call you. Are you feeling better?" Doggett asked sympathetically and put his phone away.  
  
Reyes smiled. "Much, thank you. The head cold's still looming over, though. I did what you asked me to."  
  
Doggett looked behind him and looked back. "And?"  
  
Reyes raised an eyebrow, opened her briefcase, took out a newspaper and thrust it into the confused agent's hand.  
  
"Arts section, page 4. I told you she sounded familiar." Reyes grinned and walked into the office, leaving Doggett reading.  
  
" 'The aptly named Vigeur, translating from French meaning force, is certainly a force to be reckoned with, as proved by last Friday's performance at the newly renovated Washington Center for the Arts. The band's innovative techno meet punk meet bubblegum pop has certainly thrust the members into the spotlight. It's a wonder the two boy, three girl band has yet to be marketed to mainstream appeal. Front girl and lead singer Cassidy Adamson clarifies: "It's best to live in anonymity. I'd rather people recognize the band rather than our names having household popularity. Viguer plays an encore performance next Saturday at the W.C.A at 9:30.'"  
  
Doggett folded the newspaper and tossed it into the waste bin.  
  
"Harmless. She's harmless." 


	12. No Worries

DISCLAIMER: Someday, we'll all look back on this, laugh nervously, and change the topic. Chris Carter is The Creator. I am just a measly Carterian. Go fig.  
  
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"  
  
Cassidy nearly tumbled out of the cab after scrambling to release her seat belt. She reached inside her jean jacket pocket and fished out change for the driver. The driver clasped the medley of coins and gave the girl an admonishing look. She only smiled.  
  
"The sun shines down in D.C." Cassidy closed the door and ran to the other side of the street. The rain had begun to pour down almost half an hour ago as she had surveyed the scenery outside of the J. Edgar Hoover building. Only five minutes from then, she had scavenged through her voice messages on her cell phone. She had almost choked on her gum when she heard Ben's voice, asking her to join him for an early dinner, if she could. Could she ever. She had turned crimson as she gave the cab driver her change of plans. The driver only mumbled under his breath, leaving Cassidy to worry in the backseat. Sure, early dinner. Early dinner epitomizing friendship, right? Right?  
  
"Shit!" She shrieked again, as she reached the sidewalk in front of the seafood restaurant, Teddy's. She couldn't help but smile as the rain slid down her skin and hair. She opened the two entrance doors and looked about. Ben took a short intake of breathe and stood up, giving a small nod to her. The rain had dampened her hair and left her flowing black peasant skirt clinging to her legs. As she walked towards his table, he noticed small beads of rain trickling down her face. He paused and her smile disappeared.  
  
"What's the matter? You look like you were expecting someone else."  
  
"Well." Ben stepped out behind his chair and grinned again, a bit more cynically. He motioned the height difference. "I think I was expecting someone 3 inches taller."  
  
"Oh! Not funny. You know it was the heels at the wedding." Cassidy smiled and gave him a shove. They both sat down and shook their heads laughing. "You can insult me on anything except my height. But don't give me ammo. I could always rag on that Southern Carolina drawl."  
  
"Well, thank you, little lady. Four foot eight inches, eight foot four inches, you still look..you look.." Ben took a sip of his water. "Anyways, I thought it was generous of you to lend me your sleeping quarters for the night and I wanted to thank you. Ah wait!" He motioned for her to retract the statement she was just going to make. "Yes, it is necessary."  
  
"How quaint of you to read my mind." She grinned as the waitress poured her a glass of water. Cassidy folded her napkin and missed the sudden look of discomfort on Ben's face. He chortled and snapped out of it.  
  
"So on a scale of one to ten, how apparent is my good ol' Southern Carolina drawl, as you put it."  
  
"A..twelve?"  
  
"You don't mean that."  
  
"I don't mean that." The two took a moment to peruse the menu, tell the waitress their orders and continue to chatter away. Suddenly, Cassidy's wrist caught Ben's attention. A scar?  
  
"What's that?" Ben motioned to her arm. Cassidy looked done. "My bracelet?" Cassidy offered her wrist to Ben and he shook his head. Nothing. Did he imagine it? And I've only had a glass of water, he thought. My alcohol tolerance has reached an all-time low.  
  
"A penny for your thoughts." Cassidy whispered as she clasped her hands together.  
  
"That's one cent more than they're worth." Ben quipped.  
  
"You're funny, Mr. Harris." Cassidy nodded her thanks to the waitress who brought them their drinks and quickly took a sip of her shirley temple. Ben looked at her for a moment and couldn't help but smile.  
  
"I'm funny? I'm funny. That's a relief. Over a decade of my parent's worrying I grow up to be a sociopath and now I'm funny."  
  
"Rough childhood?"  
  
There was silence.  
  
"You could say that." He took a sip of his Coors. "Oh no, not rough, rough. I was .I was a very introverted kid. Very quiet. And my parents. My father was a businessman and my mother, a socialite. So heaven forbid their only son is afraid of his own shadow. They'd introduce my sister and I as 'Christine, The Fun One, and Ben, The Quiet One'. I guess I supplied them with enough ammo, as you'd say."  
  
Cassidy looked down at her drink.  
  
"I can't imagine the Hofiats doing that. 'This is Jenna, Our Rebel, and this is Andrew, Our Little boy and .and this is Cassidy, She's Not Even Ours." She let out a rueful laugh as Ben raised his head.  
  
"Not theirs?"  
  
"Yeah. I was adopted at ten, I think." Her body language became more defensive with each word. "I don't.I don't really like to talk abou-"  
  
"Oh! No, I understand." Ben nodded vigorously. He knew. He knew more than she did and he hated himself for it.  
  
"So is Christine older or younger?"  
  
"Older. By twenty-seven seconds. She's my twin. Fraternal, not identical. And before you ask, she's the evil one." They both laughed. "She's set up shop in Charleston with a flower boutique. She always had a talent for arranging average things and making them look beautiful. She's a good woman."  
  
"It's nice to know some siblings get along." Cassidy said, almost apathetically. Ben was going to ask what she meant when the waitress came, balancing their food on a tray.  
  
The night continued well, interspersed with light conversation. In the span of a couple of hours, the two had gotten to know everything from the very basic to the very random about each other.  
  
"Okay, pop quiz." Cassidy grinned as the waitress removed their plates from the table. "Sudden cage-death match. Superman versus Spiderman. Who would come out victorious?"  
  
"Oh, please. Don't gauge Superman's prowess," Ben laughed. "He could just bend the cage bars and fly himself home in time just to catch The Late Show."  
  
"Not unless Spiderman caught him up in his.web.thingy." Cassidy looked unsure of herself and laughed.  
  
"Did you even watch the Spidey reruns?"  
  
"Okay, you caught me. I just think his theme song is catchier."  
  
"Then we can agree to disagree."  
  
"I agree." Cassidy smiled.  
  
As he drove her home, he couldn't help but steal glance at her and then immediately scorn himself for acting so childish. He knew everything about her, even things she didn't mention. And yet, she still intrigued him.  
  
"So tell me, who's the better bartender, you or Andrew?"  
  
"Aw, Cassidy." Ben shook his head as she giggled. "That's a horrible question. Do you know what a cruel inquiry that really is?..Me, of course," he teased and wiggled his eyebrows to make her laugh even more.  
  
"But you've got to have a better game plan than he does..."Cassidy leaned against the side door and looked at him.  
  
"Am I not marriage material?"  
  
"You know what I mean! Andrew, spontaneous Andrew, sets his eyes on marine biology since ten years old, as I'm told repeatedly, and now, after years of being quite the bachelor, which I'm told repeatedly as well, he marries young and the only bachelor term associated with him anymore is the English degree he's working for. I don't know, I guess..I guess I'm just nosy." She grinned. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"I wanted to save the world." Cassidy sat up.  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I wanted to save the world. Every creature. I had already seen enough bad in the world and I just wanted to end it. So when my dreams of being the next Superman-"  
  
"Spiderman!"  
  
"-well, the next action hero let's put it, when those...those ideas fell through.I just decided, hey, I like animals, they're a lot more compliant than humans, what the heck, I think I'll be a vet." He turned to her quickly to see her reaction. She was in awe.  
  
"You're studying to be a veterinarian? That's..that's wonderful."  
  
"Yeah, it was."  
  
"Was?" She looked surprised. He didn't miss a beat.  
  
"Yeah, now I'm trying for an English degree." Ben chuckled and winked at her. Cassidy's jaw dropped and she laughed. She threw her hands up in the air.  
  
"Ugh! Men!" She shrieked in exasperation.  
  
When the silver BMW stopped in her driveway, Ben hopped out and opened her door. Ben chuckled at her "Southern Hospitality" joke, took her arm and walked her to the door. There was an awkward pause, and in an instance, Cassidy's cheery expression was gone. She looked down, as if defeated. Ben tilted his head.  
  
"Well what's the trouble, little lady?" He forced his accent out as much as possible, thinking how much he sounded like a complete jackass. She raised her head, with a small smile.  
  
"No, I,.I um, I had a really fantastic time tonight. Thank you, so, so much. But.I'll completely understand if you don't.call or show or---" Ben put his hands on her waist and shook his head.  
  
"Well hold on there, I'll have you know you're not getting rid of me yet, l'il lady." He grinned as she laughed at his over-the-top accent. He looked her in the eyes and began to talk normally. "Seriously though, I had a fantastic time and I would love to see you again sometime." She brightened.  
  
"Actually, my band is have a performance this Saturday at the Arts Center. You're welcome to come! I mean, if you're not busy pouring drinks or reading Faulkner..." she trailed off with a grin.  
  
"It's a date." Ben brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed them. He nodded and walked back to his car. Cassidy flopped down on the porch swing and waved as he drove off. She sighed happily.  
  
"It's a date." 


	13. The Eye of the Storm

Tritown, New Jersey  
  
Dana Scully peered through the screen and rapped on the doorframe.  
  
"Hey, if this guy is a clairvoyant, how come he can't foresee two Feds on his front porch?" Agent Doggett offered with a smirk.  
  
Unlike his partner, the dilapidated neighbourhood hadn't unnerved the former New York officer. The McMurdeo residence seemed to be falling apart from its foundation, the exterior slanted and unkempt. The patch of lawn in front was burned to a crisp yellow, the white paint was beginning to peel and the only window to the left of the door was shattered. No woman's touch here, Doggett mused.  
  
"Mr. McMurdeo?" Scully took a step back and shot her partner a glare. "We couldn't pull up a record on him. No run-ins with the law as far as we're aware of, John."  
  
Doggett looked amused. "My poker face is shit, isn't it?"  
  
The screen door creaked open and a portly middle-aged blond peeked his head out. His expression went blank as he gave a look-over to Doggett but lightened as he recognised Scully.  
  
"Agents." his voice was breathy. Brian held open the door and motioned for the agents to come inside. As he entered, Doggett noticed a bruise under the man's eye but refrained from asking. Even more obvious was the man's gait, as he appeared to limp when he walked. The man's blue eyes caught John by surprise.  
  
"Walking aids are for the weak, Mr. Doggett." Brian nodded towards Scully and motioned her to take a seat in what appeared to be the living room. Doggett smirked to himself. Women's intuition and telepathy had bested him twice in five minutes.  
  
As her partner took a seat next to her, Dana observed the cozy living quarters, which contrasted greatly to the shack's exterior. The room was decorated mostly with antique shelves, stocked with what had to be hundreds of books. In fact, the room seemed to be the only one that had been designed with great care. She bit her lip and tried to catch a book's title. The paranormal. All the shelves were stacked with documents of the paranormal.  
  
"Mr. McMurdeo, you'll have to excuse us if we seem a bit caught off-guard," Dogget began, "it's just that it's a rare occasion for one to request specific agents for aid."  
  
"Oh, I'm in no need of aid, sir." McMurdeo took a seat on the couch opposing the agents. "I'm only acting as a messenger."  
  
"You have a message from Fox Mulder." Scully stated, slightly aware of the desperation in her voice.  
  
"Somewhat. Not so much of a message, as a warning. You see, Mr. Mulder isn't even aware of the great role he plays in all of this."  
  
Doggett leaned back and restrained the temptation to rolling his eyes. This was going to take a while.  
  
"And you say you saw Mulder in a dream?" Doggett probed.  
  
McMurdeo slowly pushed himself up from his seat and limped towards the window, peering out at the pure concrete and burnt patches of grass.  
  
"There was a great and sudden flash. A blinding light. They fell from the sky.."  
  
"The disappearances in Oregon?" Scully exchanged looks with her partner, but McMurdeo continued.  
  
"..They were like angels who had lost their way. Men. Women. Even small children. And suddenly, a strong chill as the great waters engulfed them all. And they had been found. They had sought shelter from storm from those who had created it. They lay witness to it, unbelieving what had fell before their eyes and erasing it from memory. In this world, you don't always have to believe what you see or, don't see, for that matter."  
  
The red-head absorbed the lull in the room and stood up.  
  
"Mr. McMurdeo, I apologise. It's.it's been quite the flight.and from what I was told, there was some great urgency in your voice.but.." She paused.  
  
"Sir, all I would like to ask, is if you know the whereabouts of Agent Fox Mulder."  
  
The man turned around and stood at eye-level with Scully. "Some people do not trust my judgment, can you imagine that? They think I'm crazy. Well, I certainly wasn't crazy when I foresaw the bomb fall on us in 'Nam, but of course I have to live with the memories of seeing those who laughed at me, die in my arms. I have to live with knowing would my wife would be victorious in her battle with cancer. I live and breath, Agents. But I live and breath death." His voice was becoming strained; the man turned to the window, unable to maintain eye-contact.  
  
"There is chaos brewing, Agent Scully. In six months time, your Agent Mulder will be found engulfed in the waters. It will be the first sign of the Prophecy and hopefully, the last. That's all I wish to say."  
  
Scully felt her chest tighten and a lump form in her throat. Back to square one for the tenth time. She shook her head and looked towards the floor.  
  
"Thank you for your time, Mr. McMurdeo." her voice and footsteps trailed off. As Doggett rose, McMurdeo limped towards him.  
  
"Wait.you must take something.." The man limped over to the shelf and reached at the back for a handful of papers. He retrieved them and pushed them into the open hands of the agent.  
  
"Your friend is too emotionally involved. Mulder will live. But two will die." Brian McMurdeo's words seemed to resonate as he limped out of the room, leaving Agent Doggett in complete bewilderment before he snapped out of it and ran to catch up with his partner. It was going to be a tense plane ride back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ As soon as he heard the screen door slam for a second time, Brian shoved his glass formula filled with bourbon into the sink. He unsteadily placed his hands on the counter and shut his eyes.  
  
"You can come out now," he snarled.  
  
A tall, well-groomed blonde wearing a fashionable pinstripe top and skirt rounded the corner of the kitchen and took a seat at the table, crossing her ankles and folding her fingers.  
  
"You seem displeased," came her subdued response.  
  
"Ms. Covarrubias, as I informed you beforehand, the more people that become involved, the stronger chances the Prophecy has of coming true. What makes you think your friends at the Bureau can prevent it?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Who says I wanted them to?"  
  
As quickly as Brian McMurdeo turned around, a bullet soared through his forhead, causing blood to trail across his face as his body seizured several times until ultimately collapsing onto the cold, tile floor. Marita Covarrubias held the gun in one hand and brushed off a crease in her skirt as she stood.  
  
"And who said they were my friends?" 


End file.
